


Breaking News Doesn't Wait for Breakfast

by kindness_to_the_rejects



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, Gen, One Shot, Past Abuse, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Surprisingly emotionally healthy Harry, The Golden Trio, some swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24381817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindness_to_the_rejects/pseuds/kindness_to_the_rejects
Summary: The Daily Prophet has a new headline and suddenly the Wizarding World knows about Harry's childhood with the Dursleys. Hermione is out for blood. Ron is shocked. Harry just woke up.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 7
Kudos: 350
Collections: Read





	Breaking News Doesn't Wait for Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, Ron and Harry are living at No. 12 Grimmauld Place together a couple months after the end of the war. Can't say I proofread this with a fine-toothed comb, so please forgive any errors. Also can't say I depicted the Grimmauld Place kitchen with 100% canon accuracy.

“RON!”

The kitchen door of No. 12 Grimmauld Place burst open so violently it bounded back against the wall and almost slammed into Hermione’s elbow where she stood in the doorway. She pulled the door closed behind her impatiently and slammed a newspaper down on the table millimetres from Ron’s toast.

“Hermione!” Ron swore, jerking his plate towards him. He swiped at the tea he’d just spilled down the front of his t-shirt at her arrival. “What the hell –“

“Have you seen the paper today?!” Hermione hissed at him. 

“No, ‘course not,” he said. “I haven’t even gone out the door yet, have I? Why –“

“Is Harry here? Still sleeping?” she headed towards the door that led upstairs to the bedrooms as if she were about to check.

Ron turned in his chair to watch her. “Yes, he’s here and yes, he’s asleep – he was at the Wizengamot hearing for ages, didn’t come in until late. Why?!”

Hermione turned back to him and nodded at the paper she’d slapped on the tabletop face-down. “Look at the front page.” 

Ron turned it over and immediately, black block letters screamed at him “CHOSEN ONE SUFFERED ABUSIVE CHILDHOOD AT THE HANDS OF MUGGLES – HIS OWN RELATIVES!”

“Oh…Christ,” Ron gasped. He yanked the paper closer. 

“BREAKING: Multiple Muggle and magical sources have confirmed to Daily Prophet reporters that Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived and Chosen One who famously brought about the downfall of Lord Voldemort in May, was brought up in an abusive Muggle home in Surrey until he started at Hogwarts in September 1991. 

Prior, extremely little has been known about the childhood of the extremely famous and notoriously private young wizard. But thanks in large part to an Exclusive Interview with squib Arabella Doreen Figg (who lived next-door to Potter when he was a child) we now know he was beaten, starved, imprisoned, and – most unbelievably – led to believe magic was not real by his own maternal aunt and uncle. For the Figg Interview, go to Page 6. For more details about Harry Potter’s childhood, read below the fold.”

“Oh Christ!” Ron said, standing from his seat. “How the hell do they get off with publishing this kind of stuff?!”

He looked over at Hermione, who had sunk into one of the chairs at the large table and was biting at the nails on one hand. 

“According to them, it’s all researched, cited fact,” she said. “It’s not even written by someone like Skeeter. I recognize this reporter’s name, he usually only covers obituaries of important figures, political news, that sort of thing. Keep reading – there’s so much to it.”

She massaged her forehead. Ron unfolded the paper and continued:

“After the deaths of his parents James and Lily Potter in 1981, Harry became the ward of his Muggle aunt and uncle (names redacted under the Muggle Protection in the Press Act/MPPA). Potter’s relations declined all contact with The Daily Prophet. But thanks to several firsthand accounts, Potter’s toxic childhood environment becomes clear. 

“Saw handmarks around his wrists several times,” one neighbor told reporters. “His uncle especially didn’t seem to care for him. He was always much too small for his age and skinny as a rail. Once saw him going through (his aunt and uncle’s) garbage following lunch so he could sneak some crusts. And he never had clothes of his own – always swimming around in that fat kid’s stuff.”

The “fat kid” alluded to is Potter’s maternal cousin, name also redacted. While his cousin had birthday parties which would fill up the neighborhood with “automobiles” neighbors never once recall Potter’s birthday being celebrated. 

“Oh no, the (Name Redacted)s never went in for that sort of thing,” said Figg. “They would leave poor little Harry with me whenever they went on holidays. I suppose that means I knew him before he was famous, eh?”

Figg can also testify that the man who would become the most famous wizard of the 20th century didn’t even know magic existed until he was eleven. 

“I would test him sometimes, show him movies” (Muggle entertainment devices similar to moving pictures) “about magic to see if he’d say anything, but nothing!” says Figg. “And I was under strict instructions to not tell him anything – not one little thing! – about the wizarding world myself.”

Instructions from whom, you might ask? That remains unclear, as Figg remains silent on that one issue alone. Go to Page 8, Opinions and Editorials, to read more. Read on to Page 2 for more of this inside look into Harry Potter’s tragic upbringing.”

“Blimey, how much longer does this go on for?” Ron asked Hermione. 

“Until the very bottom of Page 4,” she said. “But I can fill you in. It goes into specifics of what neighbors guessed from observations – they think Harry must have been trapped inside the house for long periods of time because they’d go days with not seeing him. Other times he would be locked outside the house until well into the evening until his aunt would finally let him in. And it goes into how neighbors would hear shouting and see bruises on his arms.”

“What, and they never did anything, these neighbors?!” Ron asked, indignant. 

“It said a couple did call children’s services, but nothing ever came of it, apparently. I don’t know.”

“Well, this stuff, these allegations – it’s mostly nonsense, isn’t it? I mean, about the locking him up, the bruises? We know Harry didn't know anything about magic before Hogwarts of course, but I mean - everything else?” Ron asked.

“I don’t think so,” Hermione said slowly. “Think about it, Ron – you had to rescue him from a bedroom with bars on the windows. And he’s told us before he used to live in a cupboard under their stairs. If that’s true, all of this could easily be true.”

“Yes, but this…” Ron was still skimming the article. “This says a neighbor saw his uncle and some woman sic dogs on him once, I mean come on! Harry’s never mentioned stuff like this!”

“That must have been that horrible Marge woman he blew up over the summer– oh, hello Kreacher,” Hermione greeted the house elf as he emerged from upstairs. “How are you?”

“Very good, Mistress,” the house elf croaked. “Just changing out Mr. Weasley’s sheets and making his bed.”

“Which I’m sure you’re doing quite well,” Hermione said, giving Ron a look. “Though I’m surprised to hear Mr. Weasley isn’t doing something himself he’s managed for 18 years now.”

“Well – 12 years or so to be fair, Hermione,” Ron said absent-mindedly, sinking back into his chair and rustling through The Daily Prophet to Page 4. “Wasn’t exactly a prodigy infant.”

“I’m quite sure you weren’t,” Hermione said tartly. She began politely talking with Kreacher again as Ron read the last paragraph of the story:

“It is unclear whether Potter is still in contact with his relatives now. According to neighbors, his aunt, uncle, and cousin went on a long vacation from July 1997 through May 1998, spanning the last months of the Second Wizarding War. One may theorize Potter helped his family go into hiding, protecting them when they never did the same for himself. It is ironic that though Potter has suffered so much at the hands of Muggles, he is known for being a champion for Muggle rights and Muggle-born equality. 

Potter has neglected to comment on this story and has refused reporters’ contact. Perhaps we will never know how the Chosen One himself feels about the family who treated him so harshly.”

“Hermione?”

Ron jumped and pushed the paper unceremoniously to the floor. Harry was standing in the doorway which led upstairs. He was still in pajamas, and his hair was messier than ever. 

“What are you doing here? Thought you were shopping in Diagon Alley today.” He took a seat at the table and yawned widely. Kreacher appeared at his elbow and deposited a cup of tea on the table near him. 

“Oh thanks, Kreacher,” Harry said, taking a sip. He was still blinking sleep from his eyes. Hermione and Ron gave each other looks. 

“Hermione?” Harry asked.

“What?” she squeaked. 

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked again, looking at her with suspicion already. “Nice to see you and everything, but it is only 8:00.”

“I came…with news,” she said slowly.

“Ohhhkay,” Harry said slowly. “What news?”

She hesitated. He set down his tea. “Bad news, then?” He turned to Ron and jerked his chin at Hermione. “What’s going on?”

Ron didn’t answer, and instead looked across the table to address Hermione. “Shouldn’t we wait?”

“For what?”

“I dunno – for someone else to tell him about it so we don’t have to?

“What,” Harry said. “Are you talking about?”

Ron leaned down and snagged the paper from the floor. “Now…don’t go mental, mate,” he said, as he folded it back to the front page. “It’s just more of this press bullshit, it’s nothing that hasn’t happened to you a hundred times already.”

He slid the paper over the table to Harry, headline up. 

Harry stared at it. Hermione and Ron stared at him. Kreacher slid a plate of French toast onto the table. 

“What is this,” Harry said flatly.

“It seems – well, they say – they’ve interviewed some of the Dursleys’ old neighbors,” Hermione said. 

“I – abusive? “ Harry seemed flummoxed. “What?”

“Well –“ Ron began, but Harry picked up the paper and was reading it intently. Ron trailed off and he and Hermione exchanged worried glances. 

Harry made it to the top of Page 3 before he put the paper down and took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. He didn’t look at Ron or Hermione. 

After a moment, he put his glasses back on and reached for the French toast, placing a couple pieces onto his own plate.

“Well,” he said. “This should be a nice embarrassing day.”

Ron opened his mouth, but Harry continued – “Can’t really tell if it’ll be worse or the same as the time Rita Skeeter wrote about me crying in a broom closet fourth year. But actually – I have to talk to the Minister of Magic today so, no. This will definitely be worse.”

“Harry,” Hermione said. “Don’t you want to talk about this?”

“Talk about what?” Harry said, pouring maple syrup all over his breakfast. “Seeing my name on the front page every bloody week? Not really, no.”

“Well, we can handle this one,” Ron said. “This is obviously half made-up anyway. We can get on these reporters for stretching the truth, and…” He trailed off at the baffled look Harry was giving him.

“What are you on about?” Harry asked.

“I – what do you mean, what am I on about? This reporter can’t get away with spreading stuff like this, Harry,” Ron said.

Harry stabbed a piece of French toast. “There’s nothing to do about it, because it’s all true.”

“WHAT?!” Ron goggled at him. 

“Oh Harry,” Hermione whispered. 

Harry set down his fork. “Well, of course it’s true” He looked between his two friends. “I’ve told you about the Dursley’s, you’ve met them. You know all this already!”

“No, we didn’t!” Ron said. “I didn’t know they, they – starved you, and locked you out of the house when you weren’t even nine years old yet, and – and –“

“And what?” Harry asked.

“Beat you! This article talks about bruises, mate!”

Harry scoffed. “They didn’t beat me like you’re thinking. Vernon maybe shoved me around when he was annoyed – which was always.”

Horrified silence reigned around the table again. Harry looked between them, exasperated. “Look, my growing up wasn’t a picnic but it wasn’t as bad as this is making it out to be,” he gestured at the paper. “How did they get hold of these Muggles to interview them, anyway?”

“We don’t know exactly, but I’m guessing they must have been pretending to write about you for some Muggle paper,” Hermione said. She grabbed the paper and read, “One Muggle said, “Never thought little Harry Potter would make the news, but if you want to know about him, I can tell you a little.” And then The Daily Prophet reporter makes a point of how funny it is the Muggles don’t know you’ve made the news when you’re the “most famous wizard in the world.” They call you that at least six times.”

“What a lark that is,” Harry said drily.

“Seems like lazy writing to me,” Ron said.

“I just don’t understand how this is news.” Harry gestured angrily to the paper. “It’s the middle of August, I haven’t done anything news-worthy. Who cares about this right now?”

“Exactly,” said Hermione emphatically. “It’s been a slow news week, so,” she pointed at the paper. “They released the story they knew would get papers sold out of stands.”

“No one cares about this!” Harry said, baffled. 

“Yes, they do!” Hermione argued. “People care about you Harry, they can’t get enough of you. You’re still all over the tabloids and your name is in every news broadcast and gossip segment. Everyone wants to know what you think of this, or if you’ve talked about that. You are the most famous wizard in the world now whether you like it or not, and when you refuse to talk to the press, this happens.”

“That’s right,” Ron said, flipping to the last page. “It says here you refused comment several times, Harry. Did you know they were writing this?”

“Get off it – no!” Harry said angrily, getting up to dump his plate in the sink. He leaned back against the counter. “I don’t even remember them asking me this – I get hounded by all sorts when I’m in Diagon Alley, or the Ministry, or anywhere public. They probably tried to talk to me at some point, I don’t know!”

“This is why you need a publicist Harry, I’ve said it over and over –“

“I am NOT getting a publicist, Hermione –“

“Well if you’d had one, maybe this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Oi!” Ron barked. “That’s not really the issue now though, is it?”

Harry and Hermione stared at him, both equally confused. 

“The issue is,” he said, pointing a finger down on the paper, “That this is bloody awful! I mean – I knew it was bad for you, but these details are new to ME, and I’m your best friend. Harry, why didn't you tell us all this?”

Hermione sagged back in her chair and cupped her hands around her face. “I made assumptions, of course,” she said quietly. “You were so skinny when we were young, Harry.”

“And they’d send you awful shit like socks as Christmas presents,” Ron whispered, dumbstruck. “Christ, how did I not see this before? You were abused!”

Harry didn’t answer. He was still standing by the sink, his arms crossed. “Everyone will have read this,” he said quietly, ignoring them. “McGonagall, Kingsley, your parents, Ron. Ginny. Everyone. Damn it!” He brought his hands through his hair and clutched at it. “Ugh. Damn it.”

“Oh, Mum will definitely be reading this,” Ron said. “She keeps a scrapbook of all the news clippings that mention you. Don’t think she’ll include this one though.”

“Ron!” Hermione hissed.

Harry turned and slapped his hands on the counter. “Shit!”

Hermione and Ron went quiet at the table. Harry turned to face them and sat at the head of the table. He put his forehead in his hand. 

“I don’t know why it’s just now hitting me how mortifying it is for every person I know to be reading this,” he said. “It’s not exactly – what I want people thinking of when they see me.”

“It’ll blow over,” Hermione whispered. “It always does.”

“Eventually,” Harry sighed. He looked up at her. “ I think I do need a publicist after all. No idea how to go about that."

“I’ll send some owls!” Hermione piped up. “I’ve some people in mind.”

Harry huffed a laugh. “Of course, you do,” he said. He straightened and folded his hands in front of him on the tabletop. “Right. I have to leave to see Teddy in 20 minutes. So, you’ve got that long to ask me what you want about my childhood and then I say we never talk about it again, yeah?”

“Well no promises there,” Ron said. 

“That’s fine, Harry,” said Hermione.

“Right,” said Harry. “So?”

“Well…” Hermione began timidly. “Were you hungry as often as this article says, Harry?”

“Well yes, mostly,” he said slowly. “When I’d get in trouble, they’d lock me under the stairs. Not usually...with food.”

“How long?” Ron asked. “How long would they leave you under there?”

Harry sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “Longest was maybe a week.”

Hermione gasped. 

“But I ate!” Harry hastened to say. “I’d sneak out at night and get what they wouldn’t notice missing from the kitchen.”

“So your – horrible – aunt and uncle would starve a child for a week?” Hermione asked, tension rising in her voice. 

“I suppose,” Harry said cautiously. Hermione was clearly edging towards her “punch Draco in the mouth,” “lock Rita Skeeter in a jar as a beetle” type of mood. 

“Did your uncle ever hit you?” she asked hotly. “I don’t mean being rough or 'manhandling' you – though that’s also horrible – but fully hit you?”

Harry hesitated. “Only once or twice,” he said. 

Ron goggled at him. Hermione sprang from her seat. “I’ll kill that pig of a man!” she hissed. “You were an orphaned child, his own family –“

“I was never family to him,” Harry said. “I’m not saying it was right, I’m saying, I’m saying –“ 

He gestured at the paper’s headline. “It says they were my own family members and maybe technically that's true, but neither side, me or them, ever felt like it was.”

“What does that have to do with it?” Ron asked. “It’s still –“

“I know!” Harry said. “I know! But it’s done. It’s past. Petunia hated me and let her husband hate me because she was thinking of how angry she was at my mum. Just like Snape hated me because he hated my dad. This,” he jabbed a finger at the paper again, “Shows more than anything that you have to leave the past as done, or it just leads to more bad. I don’t hate them, I don’t love them – it’s just done.”

Ron sat, with his arms folded. Hermione’s chest was still heaving in anger where she stood near the door. 

“Okay?” Harry said. “I’ve never told you lot about all of this because...because I wanted to leave it all behind when I started at Hogwarts. I don't want it to matter any more. And besides, the Dursleys don't matter because my first family I had, really, are in this room, alright?”

Silence again for a moment and then:

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione squeaked. She finally took a seat next to Ron and stretched her arm across the table to squeeze Harry’s hand. 

“Right,” Ron said thickly. “It’s alright, that’s fine.”

Hermione was sniffling. 

“Oh Hermione, c’mon,” Harry said weakly. “It’s not even 9 in the morning, do we have to do this?”

Ron cleared his throat and got up from the table. “Right,” he said again. “Harry, what’re you doing today?”

Harry looked up at him, surprised. “I’m headed to see Teddy and Andromeda,” he said. “And then I’m meeting with Kingsley and then I’m supposed to go to The Burrow for that dinner tonight.”

“Oh yeah, Percy’s birthday dinner,” Ron said. “If it’s going to be anything like him, it'll promise to be dull as dirt.”

Hermione chuckled weakly. “You should leave him be, Ron, really.”

“Maybe one day, if he stops being a prat,” Ron said. “Okay, so here’s what we should do; Hermione, you should go with Harry to the Ministry and while you’re there you can head off any nosy gits headed his way. And while you lot do that, I’ll head to my parents’ and try to persuade Mum not to look at Harry like he’s a wee injured lamb through the whole dinner, sound good?”

“Yes!” Hermione said, perking up. “Oooo and while I’m at the Ministry, I’ll ask around if these reporters broke any laws or codes of conduct. If they so much as put a toe out of line, I’ll have this all redacted.”

“That’s the spirit!” Ron said cheerfully. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Harry said feebly. “I can deal with it – I’ve dealt with the press before, I’ll do it again.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to do it alone,” Ron said. 

“See you at eleven sharp, Harry,” Hermione said. She squeezed his hand again, got up, and kissed Ron on the cheek. “Good job,” she whispered to him as she did. Then she grabbed the paper, threw it in the trash bin, and was gone.

“How’d she know my meeting was at eleven?” Harry asked. 

“Mate,” Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder. “If I’ve learned anything in the past eight years, it’s to never question Hermione.”


End file.
